Snowbound

Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Emma

I stare at my screen. Same chair. Same blank page. Same fucking position I was in before Owen came.

My fingers hover. Useless. I’ve forgotten how to type. Forgotten how to dream.

For a while, I knew exactly what I wanted to write, and the words came fast and furious. I smiled to myself as the story began to unfold, but now…

I don’t know how to finish this book, but maybe that’s because I don’t know how the story ends. That’s the part that kills me.

Not the silence. Not the pressure.

It’s the not knowing.

How am I supposed to write about real, binding, unbreakable love when I can’t see the ending?

I slam the laptop shut and pace the cabin like an animal caught in a trap.

One more day. That’s all I have. Just one more day, and my rental here is done. No more hiding behind the snow. No more pretending the storm is what kept me inside.

It’s just me now. Me and this damn book, and my heart that’s breaking all over again.

I need to finish it, that much is clear.

I have to.

My phone buzzes, and hope lifts in my chest. I check the screen, but it’s not the man I wish would reach out to me.

Text after text after fucking text comes in.

Jake.

Jake

Emma, where are you?

Emma, I need you.

Emma, I’m sorry.

I feel sick just reading the messages, knowing I’m really not who he needs at all, and he doesn’t mean any of this. He can’t stand knowing someone doesn’t worship the ground he walks on and wants to make things right to save face. Jake is toxic. I know that now.

I wouldn’t admit this to Owen right this second, but maybe he was right to block Jake.

Maybe I needed someone else to draw the boundary I couldn’t.

Goddamn it. My chest aches. I need to get over this.

Then the last message comes in.

Sent an hour ago.

Jake

I’m on my way. We have to talk

My stomach drops. How the hell does he know where I am? I booked the cabin with my own card. Of course, it wouldn’t take a genius to trace it.

He found me.

Jake is here.

Panic spikes, sharp and hot. What am I going to do? I don’t want to see him.

There’s a sharp bang at the door, and for one crazy moment, I imagine it’s Owen—big, solid, and steady.

Protective.

But when I glance out the window, I see black hair and a familiar brown coat.

Jake. That fucking loser.

I yank the door open. He stands there, shivering, looking like he’s about to freeze his skinny little ass off in the middle of nowhere.

“What are you doing here?” I snap.

“I came to find you,” he snaps back. “You’re my wife.”

“Was your wife.” I shake my head, sick to my stomach.

“Go away, Jake. I don’t want you here. You’re not welcome,” I spit. “You don’t get to show up like this.”

I move to slam the door—but his hand shoots out, forcing it open. I stumble back.

Jake’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

I look down. I’m still wearing Owen’s hoodie, still warm from his body.

“None of your goddamn business. I said get the hell out of here!” I scream. But of course, he marches in.

Fucking narcissist, always thought the world owed him something.

My fingers tremble as I pick up my phone. I might have questions about Owen, about what he does, but I don’t have any questions about this.

I want him here.

Now.

I type fast.

Jake is here. Please come.

Just as I hit send, Jake lunges and snatches the phone out of my hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shout. “Give me that. You can’t just—”

His eyes are wild. “Watch me. You made a mockery of me, Emma.”

“You cheated on me,” I say. “Own it. How am I the bad guy in this scenario? ”

Jake shoves me. I trip backward, landing hard on the couch. He’s never done that before, never touched me in anger.

This isn’t the Jake I knew. Or maybe it is. Maybe this is who he’s always been, and he just hid it really well.

“You don’t get to leave me, Emma. Not after everything I gave up.”

“Everything you gave up? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I need money,” he screams. “And you have it.”

“Me?”

I laugh, bitter and cold. “You burn through money faster than you can steal it. I don’t owe you shit.”

He takes a step closer.

“I’ll see you in court.”

“You’re delusional.”

His hand rises, and I don’t have time to back away. I’m still in shock when the slap lands sharp across my face.

My jaw jerks sideways, skin stinging, eyes burning. I freeze. I don’t even cry… just stare.

Until I hear it, low, dangerous, unmistakable.

“Did you just fucking raise your hand to her?”

Owen.

He must’ve run. It’s barely been minutes since I sent the message.

He stands in the doorway—not a man, an executioner.

Jake turns, sees him, and blanches. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looks between us. He sees my face, sees the hoodie, sees the truth.

“You came here to be with him?” Jake snarls, then turns to Owen. “You sick bastard.”

Owen’s eyes swivel to me. “Say the word, Emma.”

The words come fast and furious. “Do whatever you want to him.”

“You’re both fucked—”

Owen’s fist cuts him off. One clean hit. Jake’s head snaps back.

“Owen!” I scream.

I know Jake deserves it, but Owen’s twice his size. He could kill him.

Another punch. This one lands in Jake’s gut.

“You fuckin’ slapped her?” Owen growls. “You fucking son of a gobshite.” He kicks him… hard.

Fists fly. Then, Owen lifts him and throws him right out the door. Jake lands in the melting snow with a scream.

I stare, speechless. Get the fuck out of here,” Owen says, his voice calm now. Too calm. Then he picks up his phone and dials.

“You asked me if I wanted a favor?” he says. “Jake fucking Marlowe.”

A pause.

“You know what to do.”

He hangs up and pockets the phone.

Jake scrambles to his feet, blood dribbling from his mouth.

“I’m calling your mother,” Jake says, as if that’s supposed to scare me. “I’m telling her what a—”

Owen steps forward.

Jake bolts, trips, runs to the car he still left running beyond the pine I decorated a few yards away. He peels away, tires sloshing through the mud and slush, and then…

Silence.

Owen turns to me, crossing the floor in two strides. He cups my jaw gently.

“The only reason he’s still breathing is because of you,” he says. “If it were up to me, I’d make him die, slow and painful, and put my own handprint across his cheek. But I know you have… different rules.”

I swallow. “Who did you call?”

“The McCarthys,” he growls. “They’ll make sure he doesn’t come near you again.”

“Owen…” My voice cracks.

He touches my cheek. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll take care of it.”

That’s what terrifies me.

But it’s also what anchors me.

Owen takes care of things, and this time… I’ll let him.

“Come inside, Owen,” I whisper.

Because I suddenly know how the story ends.

The final chapter’s clear.

I turn to him, bury my face in his barrel of a chest, and let out a long, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

I don’t know if it’s over. Not really. But I know I’m safe now, wrapped in Owen’s arms. Jake is decidedly not in my life anymore.

I’m back where I swore I’d never be… and maybe exactly where I belong.

My phone rings at the same time as Owen’s.

Mine says: Mom.

His: Dad

It’s not a coincidence, of course. Jake called them, the fucking loser.

“I’ll go first, Emma.” I nod, grateful he’s willing to lead this. I want this bullshit over, and Owen never backed down in the face of tension.

He answers my phone and puts it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Who is that? Emma? Are you there?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m here. That was Owen.”

She doesn’t answer at first, then says in a shaky voice, “So what Jake said is true.”

“Depends,” Owen finishes. “What did he say?”

“That you two are… together. A couple.”

“Is that why you didn’t answer the feckin’ phone?” his dad snarls in the background. “Are you with Emma?”

Owen meets my eyes. Our breath mingles. “I am. Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

I grin at him, even as my heart beats so fast I’m feeling a little dizzy.

They both speak at once.

“You can’t do that!”

“Emma, I thought I knew you!”

“How could you cheat on your husband with your brother?”

My blood boils. I hold a hand up to Owen to let me talk, and he nods, shaking his head, his gorgeous green eyes narrowed.

“Wait. First of all, Jake cheated on me,” I say, my hands shaking. “Second of all, Owen isn’t my goddamn brother!”

“Emma!” For once in her life, my mother’s without words. Owen grins at me.

“She’s right,” Owen says, his voice deep and certain. Claiming. “She’s mine, and no one has to approve or give their blessing or even know what the fuck we’re doing together. Jake cheated on her. You want to tear someone a new one, call him.”

I nod at him. And on that note, he hangs up the phone. I take it from his hands, open the door, and fling it as far as I can into the melting slushy snow. I shut the door and see him blink in surprise.

I shrug. “It’s a dumb, half-broken phone, and it’s on Jake’s plan. I need a new number anyway. And I—”

But I don’t get to finish the sentence. Owen’s mouth is on mine, and I’m in his arms, my legs wrapped around him, his huge hands gripping my ass so hard I moan into his mouth as our tongues tangle. He growls into mine.

The door slams shut behind us. Somewhere out there, my phone is vibrating in the slushy remains of the snowstorm that brought us together, and I don’t care. There’s no one left I need to talk to.

Only him.

Owen carries me down the hall, kicks open the bedroom door, and lays me down. He isn’t rough or wild, but reverent. His eyes drag over me. “Take it off,” he says, his voice low, already reaching for the hem of my hoodie. “I want to see you in this bed and nothing else.”

The fabric’s gone, and I’m bare beneath it. He stares at me, and I know he likes what I see.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he whispers, brushing my hair back.

“I’m not scared,” I whisper. “It was just… a lot.”

“I know, Em.” His mouth finds my collarbone. “Just breathe, baby. I’m not rushing this.”

Every touch is slow. Intentional. He kisses my neck, my chest, my stomach, my breasts, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re mine now,” he whispers. “Mine, Emma.”

He takes his time undressing, removing his clothes like a ritual—watching me watching him. His cock’s already hard and thick, but he waits.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you want this.”

“I want this,” I whisper. “I want you. Please, Owen.”

Then he lowers himself onto me. His hard cock finds my wet heat, and he presses in, slowly stretching me until he’s all the way in. I can’t think or speak beyond the need to be filled by him.

Oh god.

His hand curves around the back of my neck, holding me still while his hips start to move—deep, slow strokes that make my breath stutter and my thighs tremble. Tonight, he isn’t taking and dominating. No, tonight, he’s showing me what it means to belong to someone. To be cherished.

He kisses me through every moan. Whispers against my skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long…”

A thrust.

“I used to dream about it.”

Another.

“Thought I’d never have you for my own.”

He thrusts again. I moan and move with him. I clutch his back. “You have me now.”

His pace falters for half a second, then he moves again, harder now but still controlled. I’m unraveling, my breath coming faster. I need him… I want him.

When I fall apart, it’s a cry and a gasp and a full-body tremble as my pussy clenches around him, my fingers digging into his skin, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes from a well of emotion too deep for words.

He groans and buries his face in my neck as he follows me over, every muscle in his body locked tight.

“Emma,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” I whisper back as our bodies slow, skin to skin. After, he holds me until it’s fully dark outside, and we’re cast in midnight blue in the cabin’s interior.

“Come home with me, Emma.” He grins, cocky and sweet. “You’re all I want for Christmas.”

Rolling over, he reaches into the little bedside table.

“That and… this.” He hands me the last coupon.

“Did I clear out that writer’s block, baby?”

I nod. “You could say that.”

He kisses my cheek. “Good. Then write our story, Emma.”